


Is it Weird to Describe a Girl as "Handsome"?

by integrase



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Black!Alice, Canon Universe, F/F, Headcanons Everywhere, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-03 17:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17288309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/integrase/pseuds/integrase
Summary: At this point, it dawns on Alice thatloving womenis the thing these girls and Deb have in common. That’s the name of the energy they are emitting: sapphic energy. This enlightenment makes Alice feel a little dizzy- or maybe it’s the alcohol? Either way, Alice is surprised at her own comfort in this room, on this bed, in the dim light and cool spring air. She’s been feeling good vibes since the second she walked in.What does that mean about me?===Alice's dialogue in TGWDLM was filled to the brim with curious statements that were never resolved, especially those said during her final song. This fic explores a potential life for Alice during the year leading up to the apotheosis.





	1. The Fall from Grace (Chastity)

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't stay away from the Starkid gay.
> 
> Content warning: use of the d-slur (reclaimed here) and use of q-slur (not reclaimed here). Use of marijuana and alcohol. Religious bigotry.

A statue of a cherubic angel, made of concrete, stares up at Alice as she rings the doorbell. The angel is about as tall as her knee, not including the gaudy wings that are tall enough to brush the bottom of her skirt. It wears a halo, and that is all- the angel is naked and plump, like a baby. The base of the statue has a Bible quote across its length. And all things considered, this is exactly the kind of statue that Grace Chastity’s religious mother and father would have greeting guests at their front door.

Alice’s mother, Karen, calls from the car where it sits on the street: “Ring the bell again, honey!”

_And all things considered, this angel-slash-baby is exactly the age that my mother and father treat me as, huh?_

Still, the spring evening is making her begin to shiver, so Alice pushes the doorbell thrice in succession. A little aggressive of her, maybe, but she can hear the footsteps of someone approaching the door after the chiming of the bell ends. Alice spins and gestures at Karen to _please leave before someone sees you dropping me off, Mom_. The car window rolls up but the vehicle does not move before Grace Chastity’s father opens the door.

“Oh, it’s little Ally! How are you doing?” the broad, ginger-haired man greets her. “Come on in. The girlies are downstairs playing their music and must not have heard the doorbell.”

Alice slips into the house (which is certainly more like a mansion, as is the norm in Pinebrook) and is accosted by the smell of essential oils. She can’t see the diffuser, but the strength of the scent is overwhelming. It must be nearby. Before the door closes, she peeks out into the night to check if her mom is leaving, and a pair of tail-lights down the street answers her question.

“I’m, um, okay,” answers Alice shyly as she then slides off her jacket in the warmth of the home. She keeps her purse closely clutched, however. “How are you, Mr. Silton?”

He takes the jacket from her as he answers, placing it neatly on a hanger and into the coat closet. “It’s all about Gracie’s-” he coughs awkwardly, then corrects himself. “It’s all about Grace Chastity’s birthday tonight, so don’t you worry about me, Ally.”

He coughs again. “Sorry, I mean Alice. Grace Chastity is trying to get me to stop calling all you girlies- um, ladies- by your so-called ‘little kid’ nicknames. Apparently turning eighteen is a big deal to my daughter.”

Alice removes her shoes and places them on a nearby shoe-rack, before replying with a laugh, “It’s okay, Mr. Silton. I’m still seventeen, so you can call me whatever you want.”

“Well, I won’t ‘call you maybe’!” jokes Mr. Silton. He moves to walk into the TV room, where football is playing on the 60-inch flatscreen in front of a massive couch. “Anyway, you know how to get to the basement. Have fun and let me know when you need a ride home.”

The girl is halfway down the stairs when she realizes Grace Chastity’s dad was making a Carly Rae Jepsen reference. It wasn’t that bad, she decides, and is much more recent than any pop-culture reference her _own_ father tries to make. Thinking about her dad makes her stomach twist and she shakes away the negative emotions before she arrives at the heart of the party.

Nearly a dozen teenaged girls lounge in the Silton’s basement, including the newly eighteen-year-old Grace Chastity herself. Oddly, not every face is familiar to Alice, but as (exasperatingly) usual for Grace Chastity’s gatherings, Alice is the only person of colour at the party. Four girls are holding billiards cues at a pool table, two are going head to head at a foosball table, and the rest are sitting on a sectional couch and chatting around a coffee table; the surface is cluttered with red solo cups, bowls of chips and other snacks, and a forgotten deck of UNO cards. Music booms in the basement from a complicated sound system hooked up to yet another 60-inch flatscreen. Grace Chastity is pouring herself a root beer when she sees Alice.

“Hey!” greets the birthday girl. “The last guest finally shows up.”

Alice snorts. “Listen, I told you I had a choir recital tonight. Sorry, not sorry.”

Grace Chastity abandons the root beer to give Alice a hug, which surprises Alice. They’ve known each other for a lifetime because of church, but their friendship had been waning since Alice’s parents had divorced. Regardless, the embrace feels ever familiar- Grace Chastity is an established hugger. Alice can smell the perfume she’s wearing on her neck, as this scent is even stronger than the essential oils that are apparently being diffused even in the basement. _Wow, she smells good._

“You didn’t bring me a gift, right?” asks the birthday girl as she then leads Alice by the hand to the couch with the rest of the teenagers. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t,” confirms Alice, coming out of the strange trance the perfume put her in. Her purse bumps heavily against her thigh. “I donated to your South American missionary GoFundMe thing like you asked. It’s still weird to me, though. Isn’t getting gifts, like, the best part of having a party?”

“Well, I’m trying to grow out of that,” says Grace Chastity, taking a swig of her root beer.

Alice just shrugs in response. Grace Chastity seems to say that line a lot, lately. “Anyway, happy birthday!”

The other girls on the couch raise their red solo cups and chime in with birthday wishes. Alice realizes that she knows all of the nearby party guests, since they all attend Grace Chastity’s brand-new youth group at church (that Alice declined to join, lying that she lived too far away now and “could not”)- it’s only the ones off at the pool table and foosball table who are strangers to Alice. Why aren’t they visiting? If they’re here, they must be Grace Chastity’s friends somehow. Alice fiddles with a few of her braids as she ponders the mystery.

Despite this curious arrangement, the party continues, now joined by Alice. The teenage girls around the table talk about school- some attend Clivesdale, some attend Sycamore, and some attend Hatchetfield- and the boys at school, and the hottest drama, and the latest Netflix series, and after about half an hour, they speak of college plans. Grace Chastity chimes in that she was accepted into her top-choice Christian university, which a few of the girls applaud her for. Alice claps, too, because getting in to this school was all Grace Chastity had talked about lately. Maybe she’d stop now. It wasn’t like Grace Chastity didn’t have the grades and volunteer experiences to get in to whatever school that tickled her fancy., anyway.

Alice notices that a few of the outsider girls are standing against the far wall, whispering and looking suspiciously at Grace Chastity. Then, they begin to walk down the basement hallway together, quickly, as if they were trying not to be noticed. Alice watches and tries to remember what is down the hallway- a bathroom, some spare bedrooms, and a laundry room. Alice suddenly feels wary of the strangers’ intentions- well, not exactly: Grace Chastity has a history of flying off the handle when people cause mischief, and Alice doesn’t want to deal with that.

“I’ll be right back,” Alice finds herself saying to the party’s host. “Just going to the washroom.”

The birthday girl barely acknowledges her, having launched into a tirade about the apparent evils of the Planned Parenthood that had recently opened up in the Pinebrook neighbourhood of Hatchetfield. _Yikes._ Alice picks up her heavy purse and tiptoes down the hallway. The first door leads to a spare bedroom- it is empty. The second leads to the bathroom- no one is there either. The light is off in the laundry room, so she checks the other spare bedroom.

Three girls relax on the queen-sized bed next to an open basement window. The only light here emanates from a bedside lamp, making for a dimly-lit, orange-tinted room. Each teenager looks up in surprise when Alice steps halfway inside, but none of them move, instead remaining sitting or laying.

“Either come in or go away, but either or, shut the door,” says the girl with a long blonde ponytail.

This immediately elicits a snicker from the darker blonde girl who lays with her head in her lap. “Oh my god, babe. What are you, a poet? A wordsmith?”

The third girl, wearing a beanie and purple flannel open over a graphic tee, finishes taking a hit of the joint Alice is only just now noticing, and then lets out a gaggle of smoky giggles. _Clever,_ thinks Alice. _The essential oils in the air really mask the marijuana smell._ Then she thinks, _She has a cute laugh._

Alice enters the room and shuts the door as quietly as she can. Timidly, she says, “I won’t tell on you.”

The dark-blonde begins to play with her friend’s (girlfriend’s?) ponytail. “Thank you. This party is a fucking drag, but Grace has a pool table. I’m not in a rush to leave.”

The other two chime in with, “Mood.”

“So... which school do you guys go to?” asks Alice. She leans against the door, awkwardly, twirling her small braids in her fingers.

“Sycamore,” say the couple; “Hatchetfield,” says the girl with short auburn curls peeking out from under her beanie.

“I went to Hatchetfield until senior year but I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” admits Alice to the redhead.

“I switched schools at the beginning of the semester, so probably not,” she explains. “I used to go to school with these two gaybies at Sycamore.”

“We’re both bi, Deb, so the correct term would be ‘bi-bies’,” jokes the one with the ponytail. She holds out a hand. “Pass the joint.”

Deb obliges, and everyone shuffles so that the girl with the joint is closest to the window. The dark blonde’s hair, now that she sits up, is in a stylish bob, and combined with her black crop-top, she emits an air of _something_ that Alice doesn’t have words for. In fact, Deb has it too, even though her style is totally different: all of these teenagers seem enchanting in a way Alice can’t put her finger on.

But she likes it.

“I’m Amber. And now that we’re not strangers, come sit on the bed?” says the girl in the crop-top.

Alice nods as she shuffles over and sits up at the foot of the bed, legs folded under herself, facing Deb. She places her purse by her knees. “My name is Alice.”

“I’m Ligma,” whispers the girl holding the joint.

Deb lets out that wonderful giggle again and has to wipe tears from her eyes. “Shut the fuck up! That’s Eryn, not ‘ligma’, oh my god.”

Eryn is howling with laughter. It takes a moment for her to calm down and take a hit. The smoke dances out the window and into the night. Despite being just a few feet away, Alice can barely smell the aromatic haze. “Do you want some of this, Alice? Deb has another joint in her pocket.”

“Oh, no,” replies Alice. “I’m in choir, so I probably shouldn’t smoke anything. I drink sometimes, though- oh!”

She opens her purse and reveals an unopened bottle of Sourpuss liquor, the culprit that made her purse so heavy all evening. “I forgot I brought this for the party.”

Amber smirks. “Didn’t the Facebook invitation say, ‘No alcohol or drugs’? I didn’t think Grace’s best friend would break the party rules like that.”

“Grace Chastity is _not_ my best friend,” states Alice, with a firmness that shocks even her. “And she used to drink, so I don’t know where this whole ‘no alcohol’ shit came from unless it’s part of this ultra-Christian phase she’s in. Her parents would be fine with drinking, so I snuck this in anyway.”

“Go off, Alice!” says Eryn.

“You’re telling me Grace didn’t always have a big boner for Jesus?” asks Deb, eyebrows raised. “I find that hard to believe.”

“She wasn’t always this way,” swears Alice. “I’ve known her forever and she’s only been like this for maybe a year. It’s probably because she wants to be the top student at her fancy-ass Christian university next year. Ugh.”

Alice glances down at her light-brown hands around the bottle of raspberry-flavoured Sourpuss and decides to open it. There’s no glasses and mixers around, but bottoms-up it goes; she takes a sizeable gulp of the sweet-and-sour liquor, eyes clenched shut. It burns as it goes down her throat, just as her friendship with Grace Chastity is burning down as the days go by. Alice takes a deep breath, and suddenly feeling compelled by the need to show off to her new acquaintances, she takes a second large gulp. This time her eyes water due to the sour on her tongue. It’s invigorating.

“Nice!” says Eryn to Alice as she offers the last of the joint to Amber. Her girlfriend shakes her head, so Eryn hands it to Deb.

“May I?” asks Amber, gesturing to the Sourpuss. Alice doesn’t hesitate to give her the bottle- she can’t handle _that_ much alcohol to herself, and at some point, she’ll have to go back out to Grace Chastity and the other girls. The consequences would likely be awful if she stumbled back shit-faced.

“So like, why did Grace Chastity invite you guys to her birthday party if you aren’t really her friends?” questions Alice.

“We were talking about that earlier,” replies Eryn. “The only thing we can think of is that we all trolled her with a ‘maybe’ response to the Facebook invite for her youth group last week-”

“- Which I genuinely think she sent to every teenage girl listed as attending Clivesdale High and Hatchetfield High,” finishes Amber. “Since the location for this party was marked as being in the Pinebrook neighbourhood, we figured it would be in, like, a Kardashian-sized house.”

“It’s not Kardashian-sized, but still big so why not check it out? And we get to eat snacks and see this dyke-” Eryn points to Deb, who does a two-fingered salute back as she taps on her phone, “- so it’s basically a decent way to kill a Saturday night. Just chilling at Grease Cheesetitty’s house.”

At this point, it dawns on Alice that _loving women_ is the thing Amber, Eryn, and Deb have in common. That’s the energy they are emitting: sapphic energy. This enlightenment makes Alice feel a little dizzy- or maybe it’s the alcohol? Either way, Alice is surprised at her own comfort in this chilly room, sharing close quarters with these strangers in the dim light. She’s been feeling good vibes since the second she walked in. _What does that mean about me?_

Before she can ponder this question any further, the door to the spare bedroom cracks open. “Alice? You in here?”

It’s Grace Chastity, with two other youth group girls behind her. There’s no time to hide the brilliant pink of the Sourpuss, but at least the marijuana is finished. Grace Chastity frowns fiercely as she quickly spots the bottle. She and her company step into the room, and the birthday girls fists slam down onto her hips, legs wide apart; Deb and the others find this comedic, whereas Alice knows this stance means shit is about to go down.

“Is that alcohol?” screeches Grace Chastity. “Who brought that? I’d said, ‘no alcohol and no drugs’! Right on the invitation!”

Amber tilts her head. “Chill out, Grace. It’s just Sourpuss. It’s not like a bottle of moonshine-”

“It’s still alcohol, and we’re underage, and most importantly, I said to not bring any,” interrupts Grace Chastity. She acknowledges Alice. “I cannot _believe_ you’re hanging out with these lesbo stoners in here. Seriously?”

Alice gapes. “It’s not like you were hanging out with them, even though you invited them.”

“I was being a _good neighbour_ by inviting them. I didn’t think they’d come here and drink in my house!”

“Oh, fuck off. What else did you expect us to do?” retorts Deb, scrolling on her phone. “Play pool and be ignored all night while you talk about the Good Lord to your inner circle? That’s not being a good neighbour. That’s faking that you give a shit about anyone who isn’t in your church.”

Grace Chastity stomps her foot and gestures wildly with her hands. “I was going to invite all of you to join my youth group since you came to my party!”

Eryn cackles, “So this was a conversion attempt after all!”

“Are you fucking for real? I’m Jewish.” deadpans Amber.

“Shut up! I’m not trying to convert anybody,” says Grace Chastity with her hands in the air. “I’m trying to spread the good word. There’s a difference!”

“Hot news update: ‘inviting people to places with the sole intention of having them join your religion is actually fine and not a huge power imbalance,’ says old white straight man who wants you to donate your life savings to his Mega-church,” snarks Deb, looking up from her phone.

Amber and Eryn giggle before Amber takes another swig of Sourpuss. Alice’s stomach churns like the liquor swishes in the glass bottle. It was not apparent before how deeply Grace Chastity’s religious zealotry went, and now that it was, it was kind of sickening she had considered the birthday girl a friend up until today. Alice can feel her hands shaking, so she grips the black material of her skirt.

“You should all get the fuck out of my house,” spits Grace Chastity. “Go to whatever queer bullshit you do and burn in hell for it.”

The party host looks to Alice as the three outsiders begin to move off of the bed. “I hope you didn’t drink with them, because if you want to stay, I’ll forgive you for this.”

Alice takes a deep breath. “Grace Chastity, I’m the one who brought the Sourpuss.”

Grace Chastity is at a loss; it’s her turn to gape. Alice slides off of the bed to join the others, and as a group, they exit the bedroom past the small herd of youth group girls. The birthday girl’s yelling appears to have attracted the rest of the guests to the scene. Alice’s face reddens with embarrassment at the crowd and she looks at the floor, one hand clutching her purse and the other tangled in her braids as she walks forward, through the basement and up the stairs. Amber leads the way and is the first to the coat closet.

“Mine’s here. Eryn, here’s yours. Deb and Alice, which ones are yours?” mutters Amber, shuffling through the jackets hanging in the large storage space.

Alice adjusts her thigh-high stockings before putting on her flats. She is on the edge of crying, but chokes out to Amber, “The red one.”

In her peripheral vision, Alice sees a red blob, and blindly reaches out a hand to grab the jacket. The tears, hot and heavy, begin to flow down her cheeks. Deb notices and gently grabs Alice’s shoulder, facing her.

“It’s okay,” Deb comforts her. “Grace is just an asshole. She’s a nerdy prude.”

After a few moments, everybody is bundled up for the cool spring evening, but before they can exit, Grace Chastity is but a few yards away in the Silton’s mansion, staring daggers at the ousted guests while her flock of followers watch in amusement. The birthday girl’s ginger hair catches the lighting and looks like flames. She stomps from the basement stairs towards the home’s entryway.

“Alice, I hope you can find your path back to Jesus before these queers turn you into a sinner, too!” Grace Chastity shouts.

Alice turns her head away and finds Deb giving Grace Chastity two middle fingers. The four teenagers depart swiftly, slamming the door in Grace Chastity’s twisted, angry face. Deb takes a moment to push over the angel statue beside the home’s front door; it makes a satisfying _thunk!_ as it collides with the wood of the porch. The group hustle off the property and onto the street. The LED streetlights of the rich neighbourhood drown out the twinkling of the stars above, but the moon glows faintly in the clear sky. Alice feels the cold on her fingers and regrets not bringing mittens.

“Well, fuck. Now what?” asks Eryn. Her girlfriend wraps an arm around her waist.

“I dunno. Let’s smoke this joint in my pocket and then get a late-night snack, or something,” suggests Deb, on her phone again.

“Yeah!” cheers Amber. She raises the bottle of red-pink liquor she’s still carrying. “Hey, Alice, can we finish the Sourpuss, too?”

“Sure,” says Alice.

Amber and Eryn begin to plod down the street, one arm around the other. Alice does not budge and instead pulls her cell phone from her purse, and Deb lights up her joint while she goes after them. Before Deb stops to turn back, Alice notices she has a slight limp. The short-haired teen smokes for a moment where she has paused, and then regards Alice as she returns to her side.

“You okay?” asks Deb.

“I’m... whatever,” whispers Alice. “Just going to phone my mom and get her to pick me up here.”

Deb lets out a sizeable cloud of smoke. “You should come with us to get like, tacos. I’ll buy for you if you don’t have money.”

“I dunno.”

“It’ll be fun. Come hang out and get Grease Cheesetitty out of your mind. We can get a taxi to wherever you live afterwards.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’d like to get to know you, Alice,” says Deb, then coughs in embarrassment. “And Amber and Eryn would too. Like I said, don’t worry about Grace. People like her are toxic, and this was probably inevitable. Let’s go have a good time and forget about her.”

The confident aura Deb exudes helps Alice believe she is right. Further, Grace Chastity really had been turning into a strange and judgemental person that Alice did not like in the past few months. It was, indeed, probably inevitable as Deb said. Alice takes a moment to examine Deb when the haze of the drug clears. There are little freckles across her nose and cheeks, lighter in colour than her auburn curls. The reddish tones contrast with the robin’s egg blue of her eyes. Deb has a strong jawline and nice cheekbones. She’s shorter than Alice by a bit, but her attitude makes her seem taller than she is. _Is it weird to describe a girl as ‘handsome’?_

That energy that Amber, Eryn, and Deb have: it thrills Alice. She’s never been around a group of teens like them before, and she wonders if maybe this is her kind of people. She doesn’t know yet- but Alice’s fear and anxiety about the night is rapidly being replaced by eagerness to learn more about these girls. She places her phone back in her purse and nods to Deb. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Fuck yeah!” says Deb. “So, Alice. Do you listen to Hayley Kiyoko?”


	2. Words Over Breakfast

Bill swings open the door to the east wing of Hatchetfield High. Sweat drips down his brow, his exertion from running through the parking lot showing clearly to Paul, who follows close by. In his hand, the weight of the shotgun reminds him of the danger he- and more importantly, Alice- are in.

“Alice?” shouts Bill. “Alice?!”

His voice echoes through the empty corridor, echoing off of the metal lockers. He cries, “Sweetie, where are you?”

Paul reaches for his friend as he skitters past him in his search for his daughter. He can almost feel the anxiety and fear radiating from Bill. It’s affecting him, too. It’s dangerous.

“Bill, be quiet,” urges Paul. “Be quiet, Bill, okay?”

“We’ve gotta find her, Paul,” replies Bill, swinging around to face him. His eyes are wide, the whites of the pair contrasting with his dark skin, but the same kind of look is mirrored on Paul’s face; Bill pauses.

“We will,” whispers Paul. He grips the other man by the shoulders firmly. “But you’re gonna have to shut up, alright? Your screaming is going to get us killed... and then who is going to save Alice?”

Paul’s logic takes a moment to sink into the mind of the worried father. His casts his eyes down to the checkered floor of the school, breathing heavily. His heart beats in his ears.

“Right,” says Bill. “Right. Sorry, Paul. It’s just...”

He raises his eyes to look at Paul. “She’s all I have.”

Paul’s stomach twists and he thinks about Ted’s pessimism just before himself and Bill left the sanctuary of Professor Hidgens. What if Alice is already dead, her body taken over by these awful, awful singing-and-dancing aliens? It would be hard enough for Paul to see a possessed version of the girl he used to babysit. He couldn’t imagine ripping a father away from the living corpse of his daughter.

“I know,” chokes out Paul. “Just... just try to stay calm, and follow me. Okay?”

Bill obliges, and the two set off through the maze of Hatchetfield High. The lights flicker on and off occasionally, giving the men a scare, and they have to avoid shattered glass, desks, and locker contents that were thrown into the hallway. Most frightening of all, they must deal with the ironic silence of a musical wasteland. It presses in as they move forward until Bill cannot take it any longer.

“You know, she’s a good kid, Paul,” he says, breaking the intense quiet. “She’s smart, and... I respect her choices.”

Paul nods as he dodges a shredded backpack. He remembers the fun wit of Alice, the way she liked to watch and critique movies with him when Bill and Karen went on date nights. He thinks about how she would warn him about any musical numbers in her favourite movies, and together they would make up nonsensical lyrics to mock those scenes.

“But...” continues Bill. “If we’re being honest, I _don’t_ like Deb.”

Paul grits his teeth. This is the hundredth time he has heard Bill talk negatively of Deb, and the fact that he preluded this statement with _I respect her choices_ grates on his nerves.

Bill, also stepping carefully as the men pass the remains of a chemistry lab, doesn’t notice Paul’s stiff response. He goes on, “She’s just- she’s always on her phone, and I don’t know. I just think Alice could do better.”

“Yeah, sure, Bill,” sighs Paul, taking a second to put a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“This morning- the knucklehead that I am!- I said, ‘Why don’t you try dating someone at your own high school, in Clivesdale?’” laments Bill. “And she said, ‘You just don’t like Deb.’ And what was I supposed to do? Lie?”

The men are face to face now, at a four-way intersect of school corridors. The red of an exit sign glows faintly in the distance, to the north, and Paul notes this down as he tries to care about Bill’s hundred-and-first-“I-don’t-like-Deb”-tirade. The floor here is wet, dirty water flowing out of a nearby washroom.

“So I said, ‘Why don’t you try dating someone like Grace Chastity?’” says Bill. “And she goes, ‘No! Grace Chastity is a _nerdy prude!_ ”

Paul wants to laugh at that phrase- “nerdy prude”- that doesn’t exactly sound like an insult Alice would sling, but is still very suitable. Grace Chastity was always on the local news for her church-based charity drives and the volunteering efforts of her youth group.

“And I said, ‘One, I said date someone like her. Two, that is not a very nice thing to say.” Bill waggles a finger as if Alice were in front of him, being lectured. Then he turns to Paul, bewildered and heated. “And suddenly, I’m defending Grace Chastity of all people! And Alice says, ‘You just want Grace Chastity to be your daughter.’ And I said, ‘Well, at least she’s nice to be at church!’”

He’s shouting again. Paul looks at Bill, stunned. Bill doesn’t return eye contact, though. He’s deflating, suddenly, and he slowly casts his gaze to the ground. Paul sees the shotgun shake along with Bill’s hands.

“And I think that fight...” mumbles Bill. “...is why she got off the bus to go see Deb.”

Bill’s knees buckle. With infinite regret in his voice, he whispers, “Oh god, Paul. I’m the reason they trapped her. It’s my fault.”

Paul grabs the broken man and pulls him up to face him: “No!” He gives him a small shake, and using all the firmness in his voice he can muster as he realizes tears are rolling down his coworker’s face, says, “No. Listen to me, Bill, okay? This is _not_ your fault.”

A girl’s voice says from the darkness, “Yes it is.”


	3. Pornstache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for discussion of drugs. I won't warn again since, you know, it's The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals.
> 
> Also, content warning for discussion of a car accident, harm, and death.

The coffee this morning is too weak for the late night Alice can feel in her every bone. Still, the many hours of fun that stretched into the early hours of today were totally worth it to her; she pokes at the last few pieces of her cereal, floating in a bowl of milk, and smiles at the fresh, bubbly memories. Her mother, Karen, sits at other side of the kitchen table. Her laptop is placed slightly to the left so she can both check the morning news and eat her morning meal before church- but it doesn’t block out her view of her only daughter, looking like she won the lottery.

“What are you so happy about?” she asks her daughter, in a friendly, teasing tone.

Alice glances up, not having noticed her own upturned lips until Karen said anything. She hesitates, then lies, “Just thinking about my choir recital.”

“Did the boys mess up again?” says Karen. She shoos a blonde hair that dangles over her glasses.

“Yeah, one of them dropped his music book halfway through a song, and then smacked his nose on the head of _another_ guy who was trying to help him pick it up.”

It’s not actually a lie- it did happen- but it wasn’t why Alice was smiling. It was everything that happened after Grace Chastity’s disastrous birthday party:

 

Drinking and smoking all through Pinebrook. Eryn, Alice learned, wants to be an architect one day, and she had a lot to say as they walked past the ugly, built-from-the-inside-out mansions in the streets of the richest Hatchetfield neighbourhood.

Tacos at Fiesta Palace. Deb, Alice learned, is a vegetarian, with plans to go vegan in the near future. Deb’s parents are health-food nuts that approve greatly. They know about her dope habit, a fact that surprised Alice- her own parents would never, ever do something like that. Apparently Deb’s cousin is her dealer.

Slushies at 7-11. Amber, Alice learned, met Eryn last year at summer camp, when Eryn accidentally dumped her slushie as she ran across some wet grass. Amber shared half of hers with the upset teen, which lead to sharing sticky cherry kisses behind the Arts and Crafts Hall later that evening.

Lastly, walking the Hatchetfield-Clivesdale bridge. It was 3:00 AM at this point, and so there was no traffic to be heard of; the girls walked across the whole length of the bridge, from the island supporting Hatchetfield to the mainland and entryway to Clivesdale. The waters below the bridge were quiet, and the stars could finally be seen away from the lights of the cities, splashed like droplets of white paint in the sky. Alice felt that the whole experience walking the bridge was magical- a true, defining teenage moment.

Karen’s next question jerks Alice out of her own mind. “And how was Gracie’s?”

“Ugh,” says Alice, not able to keep her distaste for her former friend in. “Honestly, I don’t want to be her friend anymore.”

“You were at the party awfully late for a non-friend,” comments her mother. She sips her coffee thoughtfully. “What happened?”

“We were marathoning movies and Grace Chastity had some nasty things to say about the people in them,” lies Alice. “Really judgy stuff. But the last movie was good, so I stayed until the end.”

Deb had helped her come up with this excuse. Deb, in fact, was the highlight of Alice’s whole night. Amber and Eryn were cool, and an incredibly cute couple, but Deb... was something else. It’s like she possessed an endless curiosity, and as a result knew a little about everything. She hung onto each word Alice had to say during the night hang-out, even while high, and asked genuine questions about things she didn’t know. She came up with all kinds of jokes and snark on the fly, which delighted Alice as they munched on veggie tacos at Fiesta Palace- enough that she spit out a chunk of tomato onto the table. (Admittedly, she was pretty drunk at that point.)

Alice cannot wait to see her again. She cannot wait to text her, having had the foresight to get all of the girls’ numbers before getting in an Uber to her home in Clivesdale. And now, she is grinning at her cereal again, while Karen watches on.

“That’s too bad about Gracie. Anyway, I’m glad you like your Honey Nut Cheerios so much, sweetheart, but we should get ready to go to church soon,” says her mother, closing her laptop. “I want to get going in twenty minutes, okay?”

“Sure, Mom.” Alice pours the milk from her cereal into her already-wimpy coffee and gulps the sugary mixture down.

***

Despite the messy divorce, Karen and Alice’s dad, Bill, still attend the same church. Even worse for Alice, her parents still sit together. It’s the one day of the week that she sees her dad, beyond the single week each month she lives with him. She sits now in the aged wooden pew with her legs crossed, browsing her phone (and definitely not brainstorming the perfect first text to send to Deb), and waits for whenever Bill will arrive.

It’s not that she doesn’t love her dad. It’s not. If she had the choice, she’d actually pick living with him in Hatchetfield over her current situation; she misses her old life on the island city. The problem with her dad is that as soon as he’s around her mom, he’s suspicious about everything she says, and then Karen gets nasty back, and then it’s a big damn fight, and then everyone is staring at Bill and Karen, and Alice has to see how far down she can slide on the pew to avoid the stares of the rest of the churchgoers. _Why the hell do they still sit together, week after week?_ She wishes she had an answer.

The church begins to fill. The day is windy, and the clattering of the stained glass windows vibrating in their frames is gradually muffled by the shuffling of people making their way to “their” pews. It’s an old church, so many families have certain places they have sat for generations. Alice thinks of her grandmother, Bill’s mother, who used to sit in this pew, too, before she passed. She was one of the first black women to join the congregation, and also the loudest singer. She’s the reason Alice joined school choir, much to the approval of her father.

As if on cue, Bill arrives and slides up next to Karen in the pew. He greets, breathlessly, “Happy Sunday, girls.”

“Bill,” says Karen. “You’re all sweaty.”

“Hi, Dad-” tries Alice.

“I joined the company softball league and we had a game right before church, that’s all,” says Bill, wiping the back of his neck self-consciously. His white button-up looks a little damp around the armpits. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Hey, Dad-”

“I’m just thinking you might start to stink from all the sweat. I don’t think I can sit through mass if I start smelling body odour,” mutters Karen.

“Of course not. I’m a smart man, and I wear deodorant!” Bill replies, raising his voice.

Alice can’t take this bickering; her head is pounding from the lack of sleep and caffeine. “Remove the sticks from your asses for just one Sunday, _please_!”

Her remark, said through gritted teeth, is just loud enough that the family sitting in the pew in front of her turns to look at the drama. She instantly feels a wave of shame pass through her and lets her dark braids fall over her face. There’s a few seconds of silence before her stunned parents react where she can only look at her hands, one on her cell phone and the other clutching the edge of her blue cardigan. Karen wears a look of uncomfortable anger, whereas Bill is a little bewildered.

“I thought we were done with all of that angsty teen stuff,” he comments and shakes his head.

Thankfully for Alice, the music signalling the beginning of mass begins seconds after the family drama. She puts her cell phone in her purse and uncrosses her legs while taking deep breaths to try and relax herself. It doesn’t help, because her parents keep sneaking looks at her, as if the outburst might suddenly continue. Alice listens to the priest drone on as best she can. She sings clearly during the hymns, and says the “amens” with the rest of the congregation. All in all, though, it’s another Sunday morning trashed by intrafamily conflict. _Great._

Alice’s phone vibrates in her purse as the priest says the parting words of the ceremony. She becomes giddy at the thought that it could be from Deb, which makes her wonder what’s the root cause of all of her... enthusiasm? around getting attention from Deb- and she has to cut that thought short when her parents begin to slide out of the pew to exit the church. They bump shoulders with other churchgoers on the way to the foyer of the building, where there is more breathing room to visit.

Bill breaks the tension between the three. “Sorry, Alice.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” she replies.

“No, I-” he sighs. “I should have showered between the softball game and church.”

_What?_

“Yes, you should have,” says Karen, arms crossed.

_What???_

“I think my next game is on Saturday and not next Sunday, but if it is, I’ll shower. I promise.”

“Thank you, Bill,” replies Karen. She zips up her coat and pulls the car keys out of her pocket. They jingle, but the noise is drowned out by the chattering of other families in the foyer. “Let’s get out of here before the parking lot gets busy, Alice.”

“Okay-”

As Alice steps forward to say goodbye to her dad, she sees a flash of bright red hair next to him. Suddenly, Bill is turning around to see an over-enthusiastic Grace Chastity, wearing a huge smile and an aggressive amount of blush powder. Alice gets a sinking feeling as she realizes her now-ex-friend is both chatting up her dad and making sure Alice sees her as she does so. Just the cherry on top of her shit Sunday morning. In mere seconds, Alice is out the door of the church, her fancy black shoes clicking loudly as she walks down the concrete steps into the parking lot. The chilly wind stings her face.

When she reaches Karen’s car, she has to wait for a long moment until her mother catches up and unlocks the vehicle. She hops into the passenger seat as soon as the car locks _thunk_ and she can get in, and pulls out her phone in hopes of avoiding conversation with Karen. This fails, of course.

“Honey,” sighs Karen, climbing in behind the wheel. “I’m sorry about your father. Are you okay?”

Frustration flares up inside Alice. _How can you and Dad be so dense about everything, Mom?_ “It’s nothing. It’s fine.”

“Did something happen at Gracie’s that you aren’t telling me about?” asks Karen.

“It’s not about that-” stumbles Alice. “-about that nerdy prude. Just forget it.”

“Nerdy prude?” her mom replies. “Baby girl-”

“It’s nothing. Forget it.”

Karen lets out a long breath of air and starts the engine. “Your dad is right. You are being an angsty teen today.”

Alice tries to ignore her mother’s patronizing words and rests her head against the frigid car window. She watches the other churchgoers flow out of the old building as they finish their visits in the foyer; she spots her dad step out of the church and swivel his head. He must have discovered Alice and Karen had slipped, realizes Alice, and she tries not to feel guilt at her escape. It’s tough, though: now she won’t see him until next Sunday. Alice averts her eyes back to her phone.

_One (1) New Message._

It’s from Deb, short and sweet: “Ever been to Beanies?”

***

The coffee shop is no Starbucks. It’s not modern or stylish. The mismatched furniture looks like it was scavenged from garage sales and antique shops, the art pieces (paintings, collages, sculptures) on the walls are from local artists and don’t have a particular harmony, and the prices of food and drink are all jacked up because they’re made in-house. BEANIES, the neon sign outside practically screams at passers-by.

Alice loves it. Alice genuinely, whole-heartedly, loves the look of the coffee shop, and this is her first time visiting. The bell tinkles cheerfully as she enters.

Deb waves to Alice from where she sits at a four-top, her left leg propped up on the seat across. She wears a snapback instead of a beanie today, and a red-and-gold varsity jacket with white flannel peeking out of the bottom. This style makes Alice feel things she doesn’t quite understand. She heads towards the auburn-haired girl with a wave, but before she can sit, Deb is moving to stand up.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m going a little slow today after all of the walking last night,” says Deb. “How are you?”

“I’m exhausted and definitely need this coffee,” confesses Alice.

Deb laughs, with that beautiful giggle Alice had liked the first time she heard it in Grace Chastity’s basement bedroom. “Okay, let’s go order.”

They head up to the front counter, where ladies in green aprons bustle busily. The refrigerated cabinet holding goodies like brownies and pie clicks and begins its cooling process that makes the stack of white mugs atop it jingle and clatter. An espresso machine hisses, and the noise is followed by the release of fragrant steam- fresh coffee bean smell that Alice can almost taste. Her stomach grumbles and she places a hand on her torso. Deb notices.

“I’m buying,” states Deb. “No worries about price. I have an in, just right there.”

Alice casts her eyes to what Deb is pointing at- no, _who_ Deb is pointing at. It’s a short, slender woman with her brunette hair piled messily atop her head. She isn’t wearing a visor like the other ladies, nor a big fake smile like them. But her eye and brow makeup, observes Alice, is on point.

“You paid for my Uber last night, though,” Alice protests to Deb. “Isn’t it my turn?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” says Deb, and then she raises her voice. “God! It’s like nobody here cares about good customer service! I wish somebody would help me at the till!”

As if every sound-wave coming from Deb’s mouth was magically targeted directly to the ears of the aforementioned barista, the brunette zips over to the counter, both hands on the granite, and leans over to Deb. “Shut the fuck up or I will eat you alive.”

Alice is horrified until she realizes that both Deb and the barista are wearing impish grins.

“Good to see you too, Emma! How’s work?” says Deb.

Emma shrugs. “Its’s work. Gotta pay tuition and rent somehow. What’s up with you?”

“Not much. Just bringing this gal here-” Deb gestures to Emma. “-to Beanies for the first time.”

“ _Oh._ ” says the barista, drawing the word out. She gives Deb a knowing look. “So this would be a bad time to tell embarrassing baby stories about you, huh?”

“If you did, I’d bite your face off,” snorts Deb.

Emma smirks back at her, then examines Alice. “Hi, friend-of-Deb. I’m Emma, her cousin, and also the oldest person who works at Beanies, apparently.” She leans in and whispers, “What the fuck is Fortnite?”

“It’s a video game where you shoot people up and do funny dances,” whispers Alice back.

“Hm.” Emma leans back thoughtfully. “Okay, you passed half of my test. Do you need more time with the menu, or are you ready to order?”

“I’m good. Alice?” says Deb.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

Deb gets a hazelnut latte made with soy milk; Alice orders a café au lait and a croissant. The cash till’s screen reads a high price for the food and drink... until Emma sneakily applies her employee discount, cutting the amount in half. Deb pays with a twenty and then shuffles, with a prominent limp, to the end of the counter where drinks are served. Before following, Alice pulls several one-dollar-bills from her purse and stuffs them in the gaudy tip jar, which reads “Tips are Love, Tips are Life.”

Emma spies Alice’s generosity. “Oh hell yeah, you passed the other half of the test.” She then fishes two of the bills from the tip jar and stuffs it into her shirt, presumably into her bra. She brings a finger to her lips, motioning to “shush”, and winks at Alice. She’s so weird and charming that Alice can’t help but wink back.

The teenagers sit down with their snacks at the four-top that Deb originally chose. An indie folk pop song plays on the Beanies’ sound system. Alice begins to feel nervous- _what if Deb doesn’t like me as much when I’m sober?_ \- but Deb doesn’t give her much time to dwell on the thought.

“Yeah, so, that’s my cousin-slash-pot-dealer,” muses Deb after a sip of her drink. “Pretty much the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

“She’s your pot dealer?” repeats Alice, pulling her braids back so they don’t touch the table.

“Yup. She’s like, a pot entrepreneur, and I’m her guinea pig.”

“Seriously?” Alice rests her head on her fist and watches the brunette woman serving hot chocolate at the front counter

Deb leans back in her chair. “One hundred percent seriously. She gives it to me free, too, which is sweet. Though, I think she feels guilty about me, which is less sweet- but I’ll take it.”

“Why guilty?” asks Alice, focusing her attention onto the handsome girl across from her.

“I’m just going to get this out of the way, since you probably noticed the way I walk, and I feel awkward about knowing _you_ probably feel awkward not knowing.” Deb stretches her arms and then clasps them at the back of her head. “I was in a bad car accident a while ago. It, um, happened here in Hatchetfield, actually. Emma’s sister, Jane, picked me up from the airport since I had flown in that night, and when we were driving back to her place, we were T-boned at an intersection. Jane died, and I was fucked up in the passenger seat.”

“Oh my god,” says Alice, quietly.

“Yeah. I’m lucky I don’t remember a lot of it, and we’re lucky Jane left her kids at home with her husband that night. Anyway, my left leg got mangled up- it’s a little shorter than the right one, and something happened to the nerves so I have chronic pain stuff going on. Hence, the weed.”

Alice feels mild discomfort, but she nods to show she is listening.

“I like being Emma’s guinea pig better than taking the stuff they give me at the hospital. That shit makes me feel like a zombie. And Emma jokes that I’m helping her study botany, which she’s taking at college, so it all works out... besides her guilt thing.” Deb sighs and drinks some of her latte.

“I’m sorry, Deb,” blurts Alice. It’s all she can think to say.

“No, it’s cool. I limp and I’m a hardcore stoner who can’t run a 5K or do a Fortnite dance,” says Deb. “I can dab, though.”

She does, and Alice laughs before dabbing back. “This makes me feel like I’m twelve.”

“I think it’s hilarious,” says Deb. “I’m only seventeen. I can still act like a kid.”

Alice tears off a piece of her croissant. “Same here, seventeen and senior year.”

“Any tragedies in your seventeen years of life, Alice?” asks Deb. “I shared mine.” She pauses, then adds, “You don’t actually have to share if you don’t want to. Might just break the ice.”

Alice thinks about it for a moment while sipping on her hot drink. “Nothing too big. My parents finalized their divorce not too long ago, but something like fifty percent of marriages end in divorce nowadays. So, it doesn’t compare to your story- it does suck that I had to move to Clivesdale with my mom, though.” _So I missed meeting you at school,_ Alice wants to add.

“Aw, that does suck,” replies Deb with genuine sympathy. “We moved here a while ago because the guy who is the expert on my leg is at the Hatchetfield Hospital, and my parents were sick of travelling here all the time. Moving is balls.”

“Yeah, it is balls. And even though my parents act like they hate each other now, they still sit together at church every Sunday. Like today. They started to fight and I told them-” Alice hides her face in her hands. “-I told them to take the sticks out of their asses.”

“What!” giggles Deb. “And you aren’t grounded?”

“No. They made fun of me for being an ‘angsty teen’ for a bit, I guess, but that’s it. I’m living at my mom’s right now and she’s not much for grounding and punishments.”

“That’s chill like my parents. Nice.”

“My dad has the bigger stick up his ass, I guess, but I only live with him in Hatchetfield for one week per month,” explains Alice.

Deb looks at her curiously. “When’s the next time you live with him?”

“Um, this upcoming Sunday, I’ll pack up my stuff and go home with him after church.”

“Cool, good to know. We would be in the same city. Do you drive?”

“Yeah, I brought my mom’s vehicle here. Do you?”

“I, uh, put off learning that.”

Alice coughs on a bit of croissant. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s cool, Alice,” laughs Deb. “Hey, you have some pastry on your chin.”

“Wh-” But before she can finish, Deb leans forward with a napkin and wipes the crumbs off. Alice feels herself blush. “Thank you.”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” replies the auburn-haired teen.

Deb sips at her hazelnut latte like nothing happened, but Alice can feel butterflies all throughout her abdomen. Deb’s confidence amazes her. And if she lets herself be entirely, one hundred percent honest? It’s an attractive thing in a girl.

The bell at the door of Beanie’s jingles. It’s a busy Sunday afternoon for the coffee shop, so the bells have been jingling on and off since Alice arrived... but the ferocity of this jingle makes both Alice and Deb turn and stare. A tall, lanky man, with a greasy brown mustache the same shade as his tie has entered. He swaggers towards the front counter. Alice recognizes him immediately.

“Oh, gross,” she mumbles.

Deb leans in. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” answers Alice. “Ted. He works with my dad.”

What Alice doesn’t say is that Ted is also the worst babysitter from her childhood. She remembers one evening when Paul couldn’t babysit for Bill, so Ted filled in. Little Alice spent the night on the couch beside Ted (who begged for the wi-fi password) watching him scroll through women’s profiles on Match.com. He then fell asleep before having made Alice dinner, so she ate a whole box of Oreos by herself; when Karen and Bill got home, Alice proceeded to throw up on the living room carpet. Ted never babysat her after that.

“He looks like a sleazeball,” says Deb. “I wanna see what he does here.”

Alice nods at the other teen, who turns her chair slightly so she can get a view of the action. Ted arrives at the counter and puts his hands on his hips, and makes a show of looking at the menu. The girls see Emma catch sight of him and grit her teeth. She swivels and pretends to be very busy drying coffee cups and other dishes, but another coworker taps her on the shoulder and points to Ted, mouthing “Your turn, Emma.” The mustached man now has a hand on his brow, as if he were blocking out the lights to read the menu on the wall more clearly. Emma hangs her head and sets down the drying towel and dishes, then walks to the front counter as she pats her hands dry on her apron.

“Hi and welcome to Beanies,” monotones Emma. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking-” says Ted in a false, deep voice. “- for the ‘lah-tay haw-tay’. Is she working today?”

“The... the who?”

“The ‘lah-tay haw-tay’. You know, the one with the hair, and the voice?” says Ted.

“Dude. Worst description, like, ever,” complains Emma. She grabs the fabric of her uniform’s shirt. “You know we all wear nametags, every day, right? What’s the ‘haw-tay’s’ name?”

Ted is taken aback. “Are you accusing me of looking at women’s chests?”

In response, Emma splutters. “No! What the fuck? I’m asking you if you saw the barista’s name, on her _nametag_.”

“Why don’t you stop being difficult and just go get her?” says Ted, gesticulating wildly with his hands. “Don’t you want a tip?”

“She doesn’t know who she’s supposed to get, Pornstache!” yells Deb.

Ted whips the top half of his long body around to glare at Deb. The girl in the snapback wears a shit-eating grin, and Emma looks relieved that her cousin has come to the rescue. Alice looks on in amusement- she’s starting to get used to Deb’s big attitude.

“What did you call me?” asks Ted.

“Pornstache,” replies Deb. She tilts her cup all the way up and gulps the last bit of latte without breaking eye contact with Ted. Alice feels her heart jump.

“I’ll have you know that women _love_ mustaches,” says Ted, pointing a finger in Deb’s direction. He turns to Emma for support and finds her shaking her head with vigour. “Oh, come on!”

“Sorry, Ted,” pipes up Alice, and Ted suddenly recognizes the teen and deflates.

“Bill’s kid?” he mutters, going red with embarrassment.

Alice nods, and Ted proceeds to take long, fast strides to get through the front door- the bells jingle once more, violently- and out of Beanies. Emma gives a big thumbs-up to the girls from behind the counter, looking satisfied. She goes back to drying dishes.

And Alice looks to Deb, and Deb looks back at Alice, and the girls just laugh and laugh, in that happy, carefree way; that way when two people vibe at the same wavelength, perfectly. It feels amazing to Alice, it fills her up with light and joy; she looks at the soul across from her and feels like she’s walking on sunshine. Alice’s coffee is cold now- and she doesn’t even care. Coming here was never truly about the coffee.


	4. Ring, Ring

Bill’s phone begins to ring, cutting off Professor Hidgen’s monologue. In the dim light of the fortress, he pulls the mobile from his pocket excitedly, and the call display confirms his hopes: it’s his daughter.

“Alice?” says Bill. Paul perks up at her name.

“Dad, oh my god!” Alice’s voice is small but full of relief.

“Alice. Oh, thank god,” sighs Bill. He feels like he can finally, finally relax knowing his daughter is alive, and bends over to rest a hand on his leg. “I’ve never been more happy in my life your mother left me and moved you to Clivesdale.”

“Dad. I’m not in Clivesdale,” replies Alice in a shaky voice. She’s close to tears, he can tell.

“What?” says Bill. “No, no... Alice, I saw you get on the bus to Clivesdale this morning.”

The confusion on his face- no, the horror on his friend’s face makes Paul feel like he’s been punched in the gut.

“I got off the bus, Dad,” whispers Alice.

The reception in the fortress is choppy. “What? You got...?”

“I hopped off the bus to be with Deb...”

“You got off- to go see Deb?!” shouts Bill. He’s in a panic, pacing back and forth on the linoleum floor. “Goddamnit, Alice. If Deb jumped off a bridge, would you?”

Emma hears her cousin’s name and it’s as if icy cold water is being poured down her back. She covers her mouth, trying to hold back her emotions, and listens more intently to Bill’s half of the conversation. She doesn't know how to deal with another family member’s death.

“Please, please don’t be mad. I’m so scared, Dad. I need you.” sobs Alice.

“Okay. Okay.” Bill hears the desperation in his daughter’s voice and changes his tune. Chewing her out now, he knows, will do her no good. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re scared.”

“Deb’s freaking me out, Dad. Something is really wrong with her and I’m terrified.” Alice’s voice quivers.

“What’s wrong with Deb?”

“She’s dancing.”

“She’s doing _what?_ ”

“Dad, she’s dancing.”

“Alice-”

“She doesn’t dance, Dad. She can’t dance. _She’s not supposed to dance_.”

 

 

 

(Emma pretends with her whole heart she didn’t hear Alice scream that through the phone.)


	5. Pobody's Nerfect

Eight days after her first time at Beanie’s, a thick, black smear intersects with Alice’s eyebrow. She looks at the inky goo in horror, reflected back at her in the small mirror, before turning to her father.

“Dad! Could you have hit that speed bump any harder?” complains the teen, capping her mascara. The mirror in the sun visor reflects her frustrated expression. She tries to dab at the make-up all over her right eye with a tissue and thinks, _I should have woken up earlier so I didn’t have to do my face on the way to school._

Texting Deb had become Alice’s night-time routine. As soon she would lay in bed, she was glued to her phone, chatting with the girl she couldn’t stop thinking about. There was so much that she didn’t know about Deb yet, and there was so much about Alice herself that Deb wanted to know, too. Sometimes their conversations would stretch to 1 or 2 AM if Deb didn’t fall asleep after smoking. They hadn’t seen each other in person since Beanies, which made Alice anxious and wistful- but now, it is Bill’s turn to have Alice at his house in Hatchetfield, and the possibility of a meet-up with Deb gleamed on the horizon.

Meanwhile, Bill can’t help but laugh at his daughter’s mascara incident. He chuckles, kindly, and turns down the pop music playing on the radio. “Sorry, honey, that speed bump snuck up on me. There are some moist towelettes in the glove box if you want.”

Alice pops open the compartment and digs them out. “Oh, sweet.” A pause, then, “Thank you, Dad.”

Clivesdale High, Alice’s school since August, comes into view. The white, glassy building stands proudly on the crest of a hill. It has a modern look to it, the old brick school building having been torn down in the previous year to make way for a school with better infrastructure. Even though Alice is a still salty about being uprooted to Clivesdale, she has to admit that this high school is much, much nicer than Hatchetfield High. It even has solar panels on the roof and vegetarian days in the cafeteria. Alice had begun trying to eat more vegetarian food since she met Deb.

“Can I drop you off on the sidewalk instead of turning into the parking lot?” asks Bill. “I have to pick up cinnamon buns for the office since I’m going to be late.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” replies Alice, her face now clear of stray mascara. “Could you maybe save me one?”

Like she anticipated, this tickles her dad. “Of course, sweetheart.”

The car soon comes to a stop. Alice packs away her makeup into her backpack, then swings the whole thing onto her back as she hops out of the car. Her first class is in ten minutes, so she doesn’t have a lot of time to spare. The vehicle’s door _thunks_ behind her.

“I love you, Alice! Have a good day at school!” calls Bill as he rolls down the car window.

“Bye! Love you too, Dad,” replies Alice with a wave, moving quickly down the sidewalk and to the nearby intersection. Then, she slows on the crosswalk with an internal laugh and thinks, _I’m only half-white and I’m still doing the white-person-crossing-the-street-jog!_ It was a ridiculous phenomenon Eryn and Amber had joked about as they walked through Pinebrook that amazing night just over a week ago. The memories still thrill Alice.

The teenager doesn’t turn back to watch her father drive away. At the gates of the schoolyard, she joins the rest of the students shuffling into the building. She thinks she spots the ginger hair of Grace Chastity- who also commutes to from Hatchetfield to Clivesdale High- ahead of her in the crowd, and decides to take a different route. Coincidentally, the second route will also let her check out room 127, where she plans to head after school. As a senior, most of her classes take place on the second floor; therefore, she hasn’t been to room 127, the meeting room for the school Gender and Sexuality Alliance, or GSA.

Alice had noticed one of the GSA’s posters on a hallway bulletin board last week and, after much heavy internal debate, decided to attend their next meeting. Before meeting Amber, Eryn, and Deb, she had never really paid much attention to the goings-on of the school’s LGBTQ group, and after meeting the sapphic teens, Alice wanted have more knowledge about gender and sexuality- a kind of education that Grace Chastity had normally scoffed at or ignored entirely. Alice figured that if anyone questioned her presence at the group, she could identify herself as an ally. She’s not so sure she’s just an “ally” anymore.

Speaking of Grace Chastity, Alice didn’t dare trying to hang out with her or the other youth group girls at school anymore. She stuck to her choir crew, which by extension, included the band kids. Sometimes the theatre kids came around, too, so Alice wasn’t lonely without the teen Bible thumpers in her social circle. In fact, it was kind of a relief: the friendship between her and Grace Chastity had been unravelling slowly over senior year, and the shitshow at her birthday party simply snipped the remaining threads. She no longer felt an obligation to be fake-friendly to “Grease Cheesetitty.” (The choir crew thought this nickname was a riot and used it often.)

Room 127, Alice sees as she tries to casually walk past, doubles as a physics lab, probably for the freshmen and sophomores who mainly populate the first floor. Nobody is inside at this time of day, so she pokes her head inside. It’s certainly a state-of-the-art physics lab like the one for seniors upstairs, with wide floor-spaces for motion experiments and multi-purpose tables for smaller-scale studies. Equipment, like springs and weights and buckets, are kept on shelving around the room, and where there aren’t shelves, there are all kinds of science posters tacked up on the walls. Each poster is equally spaced from the next, notices Alice, which probably means the physics teacher in this classroom is a meticulous and organized person.

A rainbow catches her eye. It’s on the roof, close to the front of the room: a pride flag. It’s large and bold. Alice had once heard that all of the colours of the rainbow pride flag had a meaning, and she doesn’t know what those are. What she does know is the meaning of the occasionally-seen brown and black stripes; they signal explicit inclusion of LGBT people of colour. Seeing a pride flag with those two stripes makes her smile as she stands in the doorway of the physics lab.

The warning bell rings. Alice heads to class.

***

As the end of the day nears, Alice’s stomach turns to knots. She’s not actually if any of her friends at school attend the GSA- she was too shy to ask the question to her crew at lunch- so she’s fearful that she’ll be alone and awkward. Simultaneously, she’s worried that somebody she knows _will_ be there. Her “ally” excuse was decided upon earlier, sure, but she doesn’t want anybody to tell her parents she attended. Alice has never talked to them about LGBT things- it’s just never come up. She wants time to figure it out. Still, she has never been a quitter, so it’s set in her mind. She’s going to the GSA meeting.

“Gonna watch the band practice today, will catch a later bus and be home at 5 or 6!! Can’t wait for that cinnamon bun lol,” texts Alice to her father, followed by a few relevant emojis.

The bell goes off and Alice packs her English binder and copy of _The Handmaiden’s Tale_ away into her backpack. The noise in the room crescendos as her classmates do the same. The teacher tries to use the old, “The bell doesn’t dismiss you; I dismiss you!” line, but like every end of the school day, it is a futile statement. Alice’s dark grey skirt clings to her red-checkered tights as she walks to the classroom door and she almost regrets wearing the ensemble, but she chose the outfit to look cute at the meeting; she wants to make a good impression.

She’s seen room 127 once and quickly finds it again, only to pause for a washroom break before heading in; she needs a moment to calm herself. It’s funny- she can do a solo at a choir recital with no problem, but walking into a GSA meeting fills her with anxiety. While in the cool, tiled room, Alice shoots off a text to Deb that reads, “Are you in any school clubs?”

When Alice finally makes her way into the physics classroom, she finds the club to be less populated that she expected. She had anticipated a group of maybe twenty or more, but instead she’s one of perhaps ten others. A quick scan of the GSA shows Alice no faces she has names for, and merely a few people who are vaguely familiar from her classes or the halls of Clivesdale High. The teacher and coordinator of the group is also unknown to Alice. She’s a tall woman with light brown curls, tied into a ponytail that is swept over her shoulder. Her outfit includes a fitted leather jacket and a fashionable infinity scarf. Alice likes her right away, but also feels something about her is vaguely familiar. She hopes this woman doesn’t know her parents.

“Let’s get started,” announces the teacher. “We have a few new joiners this week! That’s great.”

The other students begin to quiet and Alice slides onto a stool behind one of the tall tables, next to two teen boys who smile at her kindly as she joins them. The teacher hands a stack of papers to the closest student, who takes one and passes the rest on- Alice assumes this isn’t their first meeting and feels a little intimidated. She fiddles with her braids while waiting for the papers to come around. The teacher also sends around a coffee mug full of pens and pencils, and the students at the front table use these to write on the pages in front of them.

_Are we being tested on something?_ worries Alice. _What was I supposed to study? I don’t know all of the LGBTQ terms yet._

She is the last to receive her paper. Alice scans the text furiously. The page contains a multitude of questions, such as, “Do you feel LGBTQ people or ideas are included in your courses?” “What is something Clivesdale High could be doing, or doing better, to make LGBTQ students feel more welcome?” and, “Have you or a friend witnessed or experienced LGBTQ discrimination at school this semester?”

So it’s not a test, it’s a questionnaire. Alice feels relief wash over her, and then takes a moment to think about what is being asked. Inclusion, diversity, discrimination... she’s pleased that this isn’t a written examination, but she still half-feels she might fail it. Before Deb (and Amber and Eryn), she didn’t think deeply about how LGBTQ students might experience high school; she only tried to ignore the hate that Grace Chastity sometimes spewed about them. Alice wishes she could fill out a similar questionnaire specific about race, though. As a teen of colour, she has a lot to say about some of the crap that kids get away with at Clivesdale High.

“Newcomers, I want to let you know there is no blank asking for your name on these pages as we prefer to keep them anonymous,” says the teacher. “You do not have to fill out every question if you don’t want to do so. However, if there is anything on your paper you want to talk more about- especially discrimination or violence- please feel free to meet with me one-on-one after GSA finishes today.”

She continues, “Once everybody is done with their papers, we will do introductions and then our activity for the week.”

_I hope this lady doesn’t mind a lot of blanks on this thing._ Alice pencils in a few words here and there, and when she comes to the final blank, she pauses. It reads, “Is there anything you want to ask during GSA that you are afraid to say out loud?”

Before she can chicken out, Alice takes a deep breath and then writes atop the dotted line, “Does every gay person know when they’re a little kid?”

The boy next to Alice shifts to look at her and holds up both his and the other boy’s papers. “We’re finished. Do you want me to take you questionnaire to up Ms. Matthews?” His inky black bangs hide half of his face but he wears a kind look, so she nods and thanks him. He sets off and Alice uses the chance to peek at the other person at the table. He appears to be East Asian and his hair is dyed platinum blonde. Alice recognizes him from her History class in the previous semester. The boy catches her looking and gives a small wave, which she shyly returns; she feels a twinge of guilt that she never learned his name.

Alice’s phone vibrates in her sweater pocket. Not everyone in the GSA has handed in their papers, so she decides to look. As she hoped, it’s Deb, answering her earlier question: “not much for school clubs LMAO can’t do any of the sports... should really contribute to the school newspaper one day and write movie reviews for them. my first article would be ‘All Pokemon Movies Ranked’ hahahah...”

Alice types back, “Well what’s the #1 and the #... um... How many of them are there?!!” and then slides the cell back into her pocket.

“Okay, folks, that’s all of them!” announces the lady- no, Ms. Matthews. “We can start with introductions now.”

Some of the students, presumably ones familiar with the GSA, shift from their seats in the middle of the room to ones closer to the walls. The people in the room are now sitting in a sort of circle that allows everyone to see one another. Alice restrains herself from shrinking away from the sudden exposure.

“I’ll start us off, and then we’ll go clockwise,” says Ms. Matthews, gesturing to the student to her left. “Say your name and... one fun fact about yourself. Whether you want to share your pronouns is up to you.”

She adjusts her thick-rimmed glasses and states, “I’m Cheryl Matthews- Ms. Matthews to students- and my pronouns are she and her. I’m the mama of two kittens, and because I teach physics, I named them Isaac Mewton and Meowbert Einstein.”

This gets a chuckle out of several GSA attendees, Alice included. The circle continues:

“My name is Hannah, she/her, and I, um, do shotput on the track and field team.”

“I’m Bailey, he/him or they/them, and I’m both asexual and like to do gardening so I’m truly the Ace of Spades.”

(Alice doesn’t understand the joke but the smiles on people’s faces means it was a good one.)

“Hi, I’m Ahmed, and I broke my arm last week skateboarding. Please sign my cast!”

“I have a long name so please call me MJ. I use any and all pronouns. My favourite show is _The Good Place_ and my favourite character is Janet.”

Alice loves that show and she can’t resist giving MJ, who speaks with a French accent, a thumbs-up. A few more people introduce themselves, including the boy from her History class (“Tae Min”) and the boy with the black bangs (“Reese”). Alice notices they’re holding hands, which she worries she stares at for a little too long. It’s then her turn.

“Um, hi, my name is Alice, and I use she and her for my pronouns. I, um, had a dog-walking business when I was in middle school, and I spent all of my savings from it at Disney World.”

Alice wishes she didn’t “um” as much, but the other students giggle at her fun fact, so she doesn’t dwell on it. The last couple of students provide their names, completing the introductions. Ms. Matthews looks pleased.

“Okay! Hello to old friends and to new friends,” she greets in that classic teacher voice. “Welcome to the Gender and Sexuality Alliance at Clivesdale High School. As the coordinator for the GSA, I’m here to work with you all on ways to promote the inclusion and acceptance of LGBTQ students in our school, and encourage active allyship from students who do not identify themselves as part of the community. Thank you all for participating.”

Ms. Matthews breathes in heavily through her nose. “Because of the glue gun incident last week, I had to shift some of the budget into replacing the craft supplies that were wrecked-” some of the teens begin to whisper to each other. ( _Glue gun incident?_ thinks Alice.) “- and consequently, we couldn’t afford the equipment for what was supposed to be today’s activity. I also burnt a few of my fingers.”

The physics teacher meant for this to be humorous, but she delivered it too deadpan and it missed its mark, so she continues with haste, “So today’s activity is going to be a discussion circle. Not the most exciting, I know, so I brought donuts.”

“That makes up for it, Ms. Matthews!” one of the students pipes up.

Everyone laughs, and Alice decides she adores the chill vibes in this room. There are lots of giggles and jokes and smiles, all things that she wasn’t sure she’d see; she was thinking this might be more of a “serious business” kind of group that sat down and voted on policies and passed motions. She’s also learning more about LGBTQ people just by being here. For example, Grace Chastity always said you could tell who was “a trans” right away, but Alice now can see this isn’t true. The GSA newcomer hopes, at least, that she can still pick up on that sapphic energy that lesbians and bi girls emit, because Alice wants to talk to one or two to help figure herself out.

Ms. Matthews walks to the whiteboard at the front of the door and begins to draw a table. She gives it long columns that stretch down the height of the board and titles them, from left to right, “Name” “Good” “OK” “Bad” and “Why?”. The “Why?” column takes up most of the board space. Finally, she titles the whole thing at the top as “LGBTQ REPRESENTATION IN MEDIA.” Alice admires how perfectly straight the physics teacher draws her lines and how neat her handwriting is; the woman truly is a meticulous person, true to Alice’s impression of her classroom.

“I thought today we might tackle what good representation of LGBTQ people and their lives looks like in TV, movies, books, and whatever else you can think of,” announces Mr. Matthews, turning to face the class. “As LGBTQ characters are put into the spotlight more and more, it’s important to do critical thinking about what messages they might send to their audience. We can also think about how complicated this is. When is it okay to have, for example, a transgender super-villain in a superhero story? Or a gay comic relief side character?”

“So, let’s fill out the table I’ve drawn here. I’m sure we will have some disagreements on our rankings-” Ms. Matthews admits as she points to the Good/OK/Bad columns. “-but we can revise those as we speak. Also, let’s omit any real, live people or events. Does anyone have a piece of media to start us off with?”

A few hands shoot up right away, Alice’s hand not included. She wants to hear the opinions of others before offering any of her own. The physics teacher wears a look of satisfaction for the quick engagement of the GSA and points to Alice’s tablemate, Reese.

“I know this is an easy one, but _Love, Simon_ was amazing,” says the long-haired teenager, to the agreement of the other students. “I’d say that movie would be considered good representation because it normalizes the gay love life of a teen boy.”

Bailey speaks up, “But what about all of Simon’s friends freaking out at him in that movie? They acted like Simon being closeted was his own fault and were mad at him for that. That wasn’t in the book, either.”

“I guess,” says Reese, thoughtfully. “It’s Hollywood and I guess they needed conflict for the movie... I’d still call it good representation because _Love, Simon_ was like, the first gay teenage romcom in theatres around here.”

Ms. Matthews scribbles furiously at the board, writing down the points of all of the GSA members in the “Why?” column. “Great stuff,” she says. “I actually have a plan to do a viewing for the GSA later in the semester. Does anybody else have anything to contribute about _Love, Simon_?”

No one speaks up, so Ms. Matthews points at a different student, MJ, who says in their accented voice, “I really love _The Good Place._ Janet is nonbinary and always says she is not a girl, even though other people think she looks like one. ‘Nonbinary’ is not said out loud, though. And Eleanor is bisexual, but that is not stated directly. It is OK representation, I think.”

Alice tilts her head. She loves _The Good Place_ and most of these LGBTQ identities had flown over her head because they weren’t explicitly stated in the show- she isn’t even sure what “nonbinary” means.

“Can we add all of _The Danish Girl_ , _Dallas Buyers Club_ , and _3 Generations_ as ‘Bad’ representation, please?” Tae Min speaks up. “These all have cisgender actors playing transgender characters.”

Lots of people agree wholeheartedly. Alice thinks, _What does cisgender mean?_ and at this point she’s created a list on her phone’s “Notes” app titled, “Terms to look up later.”

The GSA continues to discuss several movies, TV shows, novels, and even a few podcasts until their list nearly fills the board. Alice wishes she could contribute, but at least she gets to walk away with a list of media she wants to check out, especially ones that were ranked as “Good” representation, like _Sense8_ , _Black Lightning_ , and _The Adventure Zone_.

A thought suddenly hits Alice, and she shoots up her hand. Ms. Matthews points to her and smiles when she sees the shy girl contributing. Alice says, “What about stage productions? Like- musicals? I really love Mean Girls: The Musical.”

Ms Matthews smiles- no, she... smirks? “Musicals, hmm. How do you feel about its LGBTQ representation?”

“Well, the main character’s two best friends are gay. One of them, a guy, is, um, gay, and that’s kind of a thing used for laughs and to bully him. But he’s still treated like a normal high schooler. The other one, a girl, is also gay- um, a lesbian- but nobody actually says that on stage. It’s just, um, implied, and the actress said her character is a lesbian in an interview.” rambles Alice. “They’re both well-rounded characters who are good friends to the main character. So I think that... it’s not really bad or good representation. It’s just ‘OK’.”

Ms. Matthews adds Alice’s contribution into the table. “I haven’t watched nearly enough musicals!” she laughs. “So I forgot to ask you all for a few. I’m sure now that we opened that can of worms, so to speak, lots of us will have musicals to talk about, but we’re out of room on the board.”

Something else suddenly hits Alice, but it’s not something she can blurt out, so she makes a mental note to ask Ms. Matthews later. The teacher looks up at the large, white clock face on the wall and caps the whiteboard marker. Alice mirrors her: the minute hand is creeping close to 4:30. _Oh, crap,_ thinks Alice. She’s going to be later than expected getting home.

“We should probably wrap up soon. To finish today, we’ll go over a few submissions for things they’re afraid to ask out loud from this meeting’s questionnaires,” decides Ms. Matthews. “I won’t be able to answer for every question, of course, so we’ll try for the easy ones or the repeats, and I’ll put together answers for the tougher ones for next meeting. Remember, there are no stupid questions.”

Alice’s eyes widen- she didn’t expect the questions to be answered right away. Ms. Matthews walks to the stack of questionnaires and begins shuffling through them, taking a moment to read through; it is clear some people left this part of their questionnaires blank as the tall woman does not take long to look at them.

“Only a handful this week. I think there are a few here that are easy to answer, so we can do those,” she comments. “Yes, nonbinary people can use any pronouns they want. Binary cis or trans people can too, because it’s up to each individual based on their personal form of gender expression... Yes, no matter what kind of bodies you get intimate with, it is important to be tested for sexually transmitted infections like HIV. There are Planned Parenthood pamphlets in the library if you need... No, not everybody realizes they are gay, transgender, or any other LGBTQ identity in their childhood. There are many reasons why people do not realize until adulthood, and that does not make their identities any less valid... Yes, bisexuality and pansexuality both include transgender and nonbinary people... and finally, no, you cannot get an A in my physics course just because you came to GSA.”

The group of teens laughs at this last answer, except for Alice, who is anxiously (and a little excitedly) thinking about the answer she has been provided for her question. Ms. Matthews sets down the papers, grinning, and announces, “Okay, the Gender and Sexuality Alliance meeting is over. We’ll have a meeting again next week, same time and same place. Thank you for coming, everyone!”

“What about the donuts?” pipes up Ahmed.

“Oh, shoot!” The physics teacher scurries over to a tote bag beside her desk and pulls out two dozen-donut boxes and a stack of napkins. “I’m so sorry, I forgot! Please grab one or even two donuts on the way out. I don’t want to take all of these home for Meowbert and Mewton and I.”

The students begin to gather their things. Alice pulls out her phone instead, hoping to be the last person in the room so she can talk to Ms. Matthews about her earlier mental note. Several notifications are on Alice’s cell, but she prioritizes her texts from Deb. The auburn-haired girl had sent her a few messages about the Pokemon movies, which Alice reads amusedly. Then, “I guess you could say I’m a member of the ‘smoke club’ HAHAHA not a real club thing... p much just a group of seniors who sometimes hang out under the bleachers and smoke a few joints. they’re kinda dicks but sometimes Emma gives me rly shitty weed and I buy better stuff there.”

Alice texts back, “Lol you guys should get matching jackets and pretend you’re a forest fire prevention group. ‘SMOKE CLUB, EST. 2001’ or something” along with some fire and tree emojis.

“omfg ok that’s fuckin hilarious!” messages back Deb right away.

The GSA clears out as Alice chats with Deb, telling the other girl about choir and her brief stint on the volleyball team. When it is only Alice and Ms. Matthews- and about seven donuts- left in the room, Alice slides on her silver spring jacket and her backpack, then approaches the physics teacher. Ms. Matthews is looking through the questionnaires at her desk.

“Um, excuse me?” mumbles Alice to get the teacher’s attention.

Ms. Matthews looks up and brushes a few loose strands of brown hair behind her ear. “Oh, don’t tell me! It was... Ellen? No. You were the dog walker- Alice! Hi, Alice.”

Alice nods. “Hi, Ms. Matthews.”

“What can I do for you, Alice?” asks the teacher. There’s a vanilla sprinkle donut with a single bite out of it next to her keyboard. “Welcome to the GSA, by the way.”

“Thank you,” replies the teen. “It was really fun and I learned a lot. Um, I wanted to ask you if you were related to a Paul Matthews?"

“I am,” says Ms. Matthews. “I have a twin brother who lives in Hatchetfield named Paul.”

“No way!” remarks Alice. “You really look like you could be his twin. The Paul Matthews I know works with my dad at C.C.R.P. Technical. He used to babysit me.”

A look of recognition comes over Ms. Matthews’ face. “Oh, wow. Don’t tell me you’re Bill’s daughter?”

“Oh! You, um, know my dad?”

“Yes, I’ve met him a few times, actually. I guess we have the same Paul in mind. My brother brings me along to the C.C.R.P. Technical holiday parties some years. In fact, I think I went to one at Bill’s house when the company was smaller- maybe seven or eight years ago.”

Alice’s face falls. “My mom and dad got divorced since then so we don’t live there anymore.” She tries to lose that train of thought and adds, “But that’s kind of cool you’ve been to where I grew up.”

“Small world,” echoes Ms. Matthews. “It was good to meet you, Alice. Will you come to GSA next week?”

“If I can, definitely!”

“Good stuff. I have some marking to do so I should get to it, but please take a donut or six before you leave.”

“Just one for me, but thank you,” laughs Alice, grabbing an apple fritter. “See ya!”  
***

The Clivesdale-Hatchetfield connection bus travels over the Nantucket bridge as the sun sinks beneath the clouds, casting orange-tinted light through the dirty bus windows and onto Alice’s black hair. She resists munching on her donut, wrapped in a napkin in hopes that her dad remembered to leave her an extra cinnamon roll; her stomach is doing too many flip-flops anyway to let her eat now. Alice has had several distracting thoughts on her since the GSA meeting. One, _if Paul and Ms. Matthews are twins, and Paul had told me in the past that he is an identical twin, how does that work when they’re different genders?_ Two, _what the hell was the glue gun incident that Ms. Matthews spoke of?_ And third and finally, _if you don’t have to know you’re gay as a kid to be gay as an adult, does that mean I might not be straight?_

This third question is the one Alice is really chewing on. She thinks hard about her past crushes, which, honestly, were few and far between; she had decided she “liked” the boys who paid her special attention, because that’s what she felt from everyone else that she was supposed to do. She had dated two boys, and she was the one to break up with both of them- it got boring, and doing anything beyond holding hands or cuddling with them felt weird. Were those... maybe not really crushes? Alice had simply been cruising along, figuring that one day the “right” boy would come along and that she’d suddenly be into all of that love and sex stuff.

She decides that, if there was anybody to ask about this, Deb would be the best to ask. Alice had texted Amber and Eryn a few times, but she didn’t feel as close to the couple as she did to Deb. With lightly shaking hands, Alice types to her, “I’m starting to think I might not be straight...” followed by a thinking-faced emoji.

Deb texts Alice back five minutes later (which feels like the longest five minutes in the world to the girl on the bus), “wait, what?”

Alice answers, “like I went to the GSA today at school because I’ve really been thinking a lot about how I might not be straight since I met you and Amber and Eryn. And the teacher was really cool lol and she told me you didn’t have to know you were a bisexual or a lesbian or other kinds of identities right from when you are like a little kid. So now I’m thinking I might be a lesbian???” She adds the emojis showing the cartoon monkeys covering their eyes or mouth several times in her message to try and express her own surprise.

Another quick reply from Deb: “ARE U SERIOUS LMAO”

“Yes... why’s that funny???”

“ALICE PLS TELL ME U ARE KIDDING RN...... I THOUGHT BEANIES WAS OUR FIRST DATE......... ”

Alice’s heart beats wildly and she twists her braids in her free hand. As her favourite TV character, Eleanor Shellstrop, would say: _Holy motherforking shirtballs._


	6. Blue is the Coldest Colour

Every note of Bill’s worried voice echoes through Alice’s cell phone and into her ear. It’s tough to understand his words over the static and the sound of rain on his end. The skies here above Alice at Hatchetfield High are dark, but have not yet unleashed the aggressive torrents of rain that Bill and the downtown area are apparently receiving. Alice stands under the football field’s bleachers alongside the two members of the “Smoke Club” who showed up today despite the weather warning. She digs a toe into the dirt and listens to her anxious father as she waits for Deb to return from the school washrooms. It’s a bad pain day for her girlfriend and Emma’s latest pot strain was lacking- hence, a Smoke Club visit. Deb insisted on medicating here before tonight’s viewing of _Mamma Mia!_

“Holy hell, it’s raining cats and dogs,” says Bill. A car horn honks in the background- he must be driving. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?”

“It’s okay, Dad- we’ll get the bus. You got Deb a ticket too, right?” asks Alice.

“Okay- and yes, I got a ticket for Deb...” says Bill, and Alice can practically hear the smile on his face as he continues, “... and after the show, we’re going to go to your favourite restaurant!”

Alice is hit by the powerful scent of marijuana smoke floating past her and she tries to suppress a cough. The humidity in the air is amplifying the weed to a “skunk spraying directly in the nostril” kind of stink. _Yuck._ “Which place, Dad?”

“Red Lobster!” Bill practically cheers.

Thunder rumbles nearby and the teenage girl hopes the bleachers above her will keep her- and her expensive new choir uniform- from getting soaked. “I don’t think Deb can eat there, she’s veg-”

“Yeah, I know Deb’s a vegetarian,” interrupts her father. He adds, matter-of-factly, “They got fish.”

“I told you like eight times- she’s vegan now.”

“Vegan?” repeats Bill. He stutters. “It’s _Crabfest_. Alice, you’re killing me!”

She loves that her dad always tries to include Deb nowadays, but she hates that he never remembers the little details about her girlfriend. Suddenly, thunder crackles out simultaneously through her phone and above her head, causing her to flinch in surprise. The storm is beginning to cover all of Hatchetfield. Between the metal bars of the bleachers, Alice can see sheets of rain coming down a few miles away.

“Alright, Dad,” mumbles Alice. “Well, we’ll meet you at the theatre, okay?”

She hangs up before her dad can get another anxious word in; Alice is embarrassed, and the two teens in her vicinity are so blissed out they barely noticed the thunder that made her leap. Danny, a lanky kid in a raggedy, tye-dyed T-shirt, finally notices her peeking at the stoners and holds out a joint. The smaller girl next to him is too busy working _both_ of her marijuana cigarettes to give a shit about Alice.

“Take a hit, Alice!” insists Danny.

Alice frowns and holds her phone tightly to her chest. The last thing she wanted was for the Smoke Club to get pushy with her. The wind is picking up because of the storm and the haze from the weed begins to sting her eyes.

“I don’t think I ought to,” begins Alice shyly, ready to explain her choir commitments- but just then, Deb is by her side, limping terribly. 

“Look, she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to, okay?” The redhead wears pain on her face but puts an edge into her voice.

Danny shakes his head and his greasy bangs dangle over his eyes. He pulls the joint back to himself, frustrated. The teen beside him comes back to Earth from wherever in the universe the drugs flew her to, and joins Danny with strange gestures as he says, “Come on, Deb, that’s not how it works. You’re either in the Smoke Club, or you’re out!”

They resume smoking, and Deb spits, “Okay, well then maybe we’re out! Come on, Alice... those guys are assholes, anyway.”

Alice nods in agreement and Deb slings an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders. She can feel as her girlfriend ignores her own pained leg to lead Alice out from under the bleachers, towards the bus stop. The open air of the football field is chilly in contrast to Deb’s warm and reassuring embrace. Her girlfriend may be an inch or so shorter than her, but it feels so good and right to be held by the one who loves her so much... who Alice loves so much in return.

The sky suddenly blazes cyan, followed by a powerful flash of lightning. Deb’s free arm swings up to point at a blue glow in the sky. She exclaims, “Whoa, what’s that coming through the clouds?”

It’s somehow both horrifying and beautiful. The bright blue light grows in intensity until a grey meteorite encased in cyan and orange flames bursts though the storm clouds. The rain also, finally, begins. Each drop is freezing cold on Alice’s brown skin. She watches as the space rock hurtles past the distant skyscrapers of downtown.

_Amazing,_ thinks Alice.

In about a day’s time, she will think differently, but for now, her and her girlfriend rush as fast as Deb’s leg will allow over the fake, plastic turf and painted white lines of the football field, and into the bus shelter along the road. The rain patters on the metal roof. Deb is the first to giggle at their wet misfortune as she seats herself on the shelter bench; Alice joins in, and then leans down to kiss her girlfriend. Deb raises a hand to gently cup the standing girl’s cheek she kisses back.

It’s warm. It’s safe. It’s human.


End file.
